


Missed Me, Missed Me, Now You Gotta Kiss Me!

by DesertDraggon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Look at this cowboy he's got anxiety, McCree is in charge, Multi, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, more ships may be added, stupid fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-07-28 21:09:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7656847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertDraggon/pseuds/DesertDraggon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sort of linear collection of McCree falling in love with Reaper, unknowing it's Reyes, and Reaper letting himself be happy again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never did get that kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Aight basically I started writing this because there is so little McCreaper I'm hurting a lot. BUUUUUUT. There's also so much FUCKING GROSS ANGST of McCreaper that this is me rebelling against those half melted fudgesicle of dispair with fluff up the wazoo!
> 
> I'll try and keep updating this. I've never been good at chapters.... But I have a couple written. When I get done with 3 I'll upload 2, and keep like that if I can.
> 
> On with the show!

McCree never expected to be a leader, let alone of the new Overwatch crew, but here he was. Everyone seemed to agree he was the person for the job, Winston admitting he was far too busy with the equipment and contacting other agents to properly lead, and Tracer just plain not ready yet. Their group was small, and flush with new faces vs the old, consisting of himself, Winston, Tracer, D. VA, Lucio, and recently Genji, Zarya and two Omnics, a Bastion unit and Zenyatta. 

They were ragtag, but worked well together. Jesse was surrounded by a bunch of kids and well, he saw no problem with that, considering his own young age when he joined Blackwatch. He understood why they wanted to fight, what they were fighting for, and it made it easier to rally them and ease any conflict. Takes a punk kid to know one he guessed. 

Things generally went well, except when it came to Talon. They wanted hide nor tail of Overwatch left, and sought specifically to tear these kids to pieces. Their mission in Ilios was looking to be one of those nights where everything just decided to go tits up.

Lucio was being chased by none other than Reaper, taking pop shots at the kid and he frantically dodged, climbing his way up the walls of an alley. “Oh c’mon guys please please please, I cannot outrun this jerk for long!” He called into his mic, his voice wavering in exhaustion from all the maneuvers he'd been pulling. McCree skid to a halt now that he had Lucio in view. With a huff and his hand on his gun he put a finger to his ear.

“I’m on my way kiddo, I see ya.” Jesse waved from down an alley. Ilios was a damn maze, it took him forever to pinpoint the DJ’s position much to the gunslinger’s chagrin. “Get past me and go help the others with the point. I’ll distract the ghost.” Lucio sped by him with a sigh in relief, coming up behind to give the man a quick hug before rushing off. McCree chucked and shooed him away.

“Thanks man, I owe ya one.” the DJ called out. McCree grinned glancing back before the sound of heavy boots approaching him caught his attention. Turned to face his opponent, Reaper’s owlish mask sending shivers up McCree’s spine. He never did like those feathered omens much… 

“Just like you to step in.” Reaper growled, the echo of his voice making Jesse’s heart pound even faster. His fingers tightened around the handle of his revolver.

“Can't have you playin’ tag with the kids when they're supposed to be workin’.” He joked, trying to make himself feel better with light-hearted conversation. Reaper always made him feel uneasy… he kept telling himself it was the lack of a face. The mercenary simply scoffed and cocked his head to the side.

“I guess I’ll have to play with you instead…” he feigned a pout by lilting his voice, cocking his head to the side before raising his weapons and opening fire. McCree ducked and rolled past Reaper, earning a bemoaned growl as he took off running, heart racing to the point it stung.

“Missed me, missed me, now ya gotta kiss me!” McCree teased, cackling as he turned heel down another street, Reaper fluttering behind in tow.

“Don't tempt me, cowboy.” The mercenary threatened, aiming for McCree’s legs as the man leaped up some steps.. The spray hit his left leg, causing small sparks and hardly slowing the gunslinger down in the least. Reaper paused in confusion, finally glimpsing the metal arm as it glistened in the moonlight before allowing himself to dissipate into a cloud of smoke, swiftly catching up to the cowboy darting away on the roofs of the small town.

Jesse could feel his leg falling apart, the ghost had got him good, but he kept pounding forward. The whizz of bullets and shrapnel flying by his head, and his serape fluttering about his shoulders felt… good. In a familiar sense, not exactly a good-good sense. It reminded him of his old missions back in Blackwatch, laughing as he distracted soldiers and lead them to their demise.

In his nostalgic bliss McCree chanced a look back, and was startled by the horrifying form of smoke billowing towards him. That ever present mask’s glowing red eyes freezing the blood in his veins and scattering his visions of a plesant past. That is, until he tripped over a potted plant. Of all things.

The world seemed to spin, going too slow and too fast all at once. His stomach dropped as his eyes stared at the ledge he just tumbled off like a weed. Suddenly he felt a cold all around him, everything was dark, spinning, sucking the air out of his lungs and filling it with frost and fire. The dark receded, McCree gasping as he felt himself gently touch the ground, mist pulling away from him and forming a person. Reaper, some part of his brain, that was still working, supplied. The man seemed to shake unsteadily and collapsed on top of McCree with a heavy groan.

“Did you just… save me?” Jesse whispered, staring at the man whose mask was buried in his chest as he wheezed, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened. They lay there for a while in silence, catching their breath and collecting themselves. Reaper was the first to move, pushing himself up, slowly and steadily. McCree simply propped himself up on his elbows, watching the ghost who straddled him. 

“You’re welcome.” Reaper grit out before moving to stand. He didn't offer Jesse a hand, but the gunslinger swore the twitch of those clawed fingers seemed to consider it. The cowboy pushed himself up, dusting off his chaps before reaching down to snatch up his hat, settling it back on his head. The ghost decided to take this time to turn and leave, heading opposite of the point their teams were fighting over.

“Thank you.” this caused Reaper to turn back, gazing with those empty black eye sockets. He slowly turned, contemplative, before sinking into a pool of smoke and disappearing. McCree stared at the empty street before a beeping in his coms alerted him to his team attempting to contact him.

“Y’all doin’ alright?” He asked after activating his communications link. He hoped his team didn't have too much trouble fighting off the Talon agents that accompanied Reaper without him.

“Oi! Where have you been? We beat off those Talon agents forever ago! Zarya’s dying to get some Coffee before we head back to the jet.” Tracer’s voice chimed, snapping McCree out of his daze.

“Hehe, I'm fine, sorry about that teacakes. Had a close call with the ghost but, made it out. I’ll meet you at that Aromo place we passed by, 'aight?” He replied before the sound of sparks caught his attention. He looked down at his left leg, clicking his tongue in disappointment. 

“I uh… might need help actually. I think my leg’s gone an-” he was cut off by a large spark igniting his pant leg. He let out a yelp, shaking his leg in alarm. “IT’S ON FIRE, WOAH SHIT WILL ONE OF Y’ALL HURRY ON OVER HERE PLEASE?!”


	2. Steppin On The Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta tries to help dispell some of McCree's worrys, they're really starting to like this cowboy guy. He's nice, and polite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave Zenyatta they/them pronouns because what is a gender how about no. McCree agrees whole heartedly. Genders? In this economy?

The Santa Cruz coast was warm and peaceful. Zenyatta enjoyed the sounds of the sea lapping against the shore, the rustle of the grass, the cry of a seagull. They hummed in serenity. The beach house the group snagged for a makeshift base was a fantastic choice. Everyone seemed to enjoy the quiet and sun for a while. Even Tracer seemed calmer, enjoying being buried in the sand and taking a nap. Zenyatta hovered just by her, blocking the sun from her face, just until Genji came back with that umbrella. 

The Omnic turned at the sound of sand being trudged through, expecting their pupil. Instead they were met with their leader, McCree, tipping his sun hat in a greeting with a beach umbrella under one arm.

“Heya Zen, hope ya don't mind but I sent Genji on a food run. I got that umbrella for ya though!” He opened the umbrella away from them, and then stuck it in the sand. 

“Thank you kindly. I didn't want Lena to wake with a sun burn. That would be… unpleasant for her, I suppose.” Zenyatta moved to hover closer to the ground, revealing the British girl snoring away in the sand. McCree chuckled, shaking his head.

“Thanks for lookin’ out for her. Lord knows she’s gonna have enough trouble with sand all up in her temporal stabilizer.” he nodded to the humming blue lights that just barely peeked out of the sand. The monk nodded, letting out a light chuckle.

“Please, sit and enjoy the view with us.” Zenyatta motions to a spot in the umbrella’s shade. The cowboy sighed and plopped down beside them, careful to not let his bio-mechanical leg touch the sand. He didn't wanna mess it up already, he just got it repaired and these shorts hardly kept the sand out as is.

Zenyatta seemed to sense a shift in Jesse’s thoughts as the two gazed out onto the ocean in silence. The Omnic moved to hover closer and placed a hand on McCree’s human knee. 

“What seems to be troubling you?” They asked softly, McCree glanced at them and back down at his leg, his metal arm sliding against it absentmindedly.

“Well… ain't nothin’ wrong per-say. But… I haven't been able to sort out what the hell happened back in Ilios.” He paused and Zenyatta cocked their head to the side, their version of raising an eyebrow, prompting McCree to continue.

“Just… Reaper had me. Coulda let me fall and hurt myself stupid and finished me off. But he didn't. He caught me Zen, he protected me. I don't understand why.” He ran a hand through his hair while Zenyatta hummed in thought.

“Perhaps he is not as 'evil’ as we presumed?” They offered. Jesse simply sighed in agreement.

“There is good in all beings, Jesse. Some just simply have a harder time connecting to it. Reaper could possibly just use some help finding that ‘good’ in him.” The monk continued wisely. McCree stared at them in thought before looking back down again.

“Maybe you're right… wonder if I could help him. Ya know?” He mumbled. “I would at least like to try.” Zenyatta seemed to whirr in content.

“It would be a noble cause. I wish you luck in the matter. Should you require assistance, I would be happy to help.” The cowboy beamed at the Omnic, patting them on the shoulder. 

“Thanks partner, it's been eating at me the whole time.” Zenyatta bowed slightly at McCree’s gratitude, but unease still seemed to pool around McCree, as if it only lifted his spirits partially.

“Are you sure that is all that’s been troubling you?” The Omnic tested. Jesse kept his gaze on the skyline, worrying his bottom lip. 

“There’s a lot botherin’ me partner. Not much I can do about it. I appreciate the concern though.” He stood to make his way back to their hideout, Zenyatta grasped his hand and began to hover higher.

“Would talking about it help?” They asked quietly.

“Maybe… I, I dunno. I’ve never exactly tried.” McCree admitted, his fingers twitching in Zenyatta’s comforting grasp. “Maybe I should… but I-”

“You are scared to.”

“Yeah…” the pain in his voice made the monk’s soul clench. There was so much discord McCree’s refused to deal with, for so so long… they were almost afraid as well, but more so afraid they would be unable to truly help.

“Would you like to continue this elsewhere?” McCree shook his head.

“Not now. Not, not yet at least. I’m not ready.” He was honest as he could be. He wanted to talk about it, but it made him ache.

“I will be here when you need me then, my friend.”

“Thank you kindly.”


	3. Jesse the Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper gets caught up in his first memory of McCree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is terrible and I made y'all wait so long. 
> 
> -jazz hands- obligatory flashback time that no one wants!

The first time they met was during a meeting Reyes had set up with the leader of the Deadlock gang. McCree was his right hand man, grinning as he drawled on about the fancy tech he was trying to get Reyes to buy. Of course Reyes bought it, hell even if that wasn't the plan he would, that kid spun words like silk and even enticed him to join him at the dive bar right outside. 

That's where he noticed the kid didn't order himself any alcohol, got a sarsaparilla instead, didn't touch a drop of the tequila he ordered for Reyes. They talked well into the night about Jesse, about Deadlock, about the war. The war was when McCree got quiet, swishing his pop around enough to make it fizz. 

“Lost my Pa to the Omnic invasion that tore through the Midwest.” He muttered with a heavy heart, pain in his eyes. “Loved the man more than anything. He was always good to me n’ my Ma…” Reyes figured he actually had a decent life before the Omnics took it away, he wondered offhand why it was that there were so many of them in town, why there were posters advocating Omnic rights littered to n’ fro, considering.

He would've called it a night, once it hit 12, but Jesse entwined his hand with Reyes’ and they slid out into the dark together. The whole time he had this playful smirk as he lead Reyes up the stairs and to a ladder that opened up to the roof of the bar. Reyes wouldn't have considered banging a target normally, but as the kid threw back a tarp to reveal a futon he figured, hell, why not? Course, it was probably the tequila talking.

As soon as they hit the mattress their lips were locked and they made to kicking off their boots and tangling limbs. McCree had Reyes pinned, but let the commander take control of the kiss, pushing harder against him until he couldn't breath. The kid pulled back, panting, a grin plastered on his face, it’s like he was made to smile. Before Reyes could pull him back in to continue, the outlaw flopped down beside him and snuggled up to his side, sighing contently.

“Sure is beautiful out here tonight, ain't it?” He whispered, prompting Reyes to look up at the sky above them. He could never forget how it took his breath away, how the stars seemed endless, glittering above him in colors he never imagined he could see in the night sky without some high tech camera. 

“It’s lovely.” He mumbled in awe. Honestly he was touched, this kid he just met, who he was probably going to have to kill, showing him companionship in the gentlest way. He hadn't felt like this in so long, not since high school first dates, holding hands down the hall, kisses in secret. 

When he could hear light snoring, as McCree’s breath evened out, he activated his comm.

“Checking in, deal went smoothly. I’ll give details when I get back to base.” He spoke quiet, but clearly. The line crackled to life and his on duty agent’s voice chimed in.

“Roger that, Boss. Mind me asking what’s keeping ya?” Young prodded, a hint of concern for her commander. Reyes let out a soft chuckle before glancing down at the kid fast asleep beside him.

“One of their members got friendly, slipped away for a moment to report. By the way, what do we have on a… Jesse McCree?” 

“McCree? He’s on our kill list isn't he? Hmm…” the sound of keys tacking away took over the mic before she found the information Reyes wanted. 

“Here we go. Jesse Alan McCree, born in Santa Fe, New Mexico, only child to Geoffrey McCree and Ember McCree. Jeeze, the kid’s only 16 and wanted for multiple accounts of murder, weapon’s trafficking, robbery, and destruction of property.” She let out a low whistle, seemingly impressed.

Reyes felt his blood chill as he stared down at Jesse, who’s face was adorably smooshed against his chest, hand curled into the commander’s shirt. He was 16. 16 and Deadlock’s best gunman. He was just a boy and he was destined to die. His heart ached, someone so young should get another chance, shouldn't just be fodder. He was stirred from his thought’s by Agent Young’s pestering.

“Sir?”

“I’m fine. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow, I'm probably gonna take an offer to stay here for the night.” 

“Alright, take care boss.” With that the comms fell silent, and Reyes looked back up at the stars. It made sense now, the friendly behavior, the soda pop, the romantic gesture. He was just a lonely little kid, playing cowboy like some idiot. 

He was startled by McCree shifting, pulling closer to Reyes with a soft mumble. In their new position he could feel one of Jesse’s revolvers jabbing into his thigh, coldly reminding him this kid didn't just play cowboy. He was good at it, arguably the best gunslinger the gang had. 

Slowly Reyes thoughts rolled into mush. Those stars twinkled above them, McCree’s snores faded away into darkness, and lulled into sleep.

×+×+×

Reyes woke to the smaller body of McCree pulling a blanket around them and his blurry outline peering intently at the horizon. The more the Commander regained consciousness the more he felt the morning chill. With a suppressed shiver he pulled the blankets closer to him and rubbed his legs together for friction. 

He peered over the edge of the blanket at McCree, who had noticed Reyes’ rustling, but remained focused on the rising sun. The kid’s eyebrows were knit in tired confusion as he chewed on his lip, glaring off into the distance.

“The Sun offend you or something, kid?” He joked, his voice low and gravely. Jesse snorted and shook his head.

“Nah, I’m just… it’s 8:30 and I’m a half hour late to work is all.” He slowly stood, stretching his arms in the air and causing his back and shoulders to pop. He let his arms fall with a satisfied sigh.

“Late for work?” Reyes asked, an eyebrow peaked. McCree nodded, leaning on one of the low walls to pull on his boots.

“Yeah, I work at the Panorama down the road durin’ the day. Need somethin’ to make money when I ain't got deals to make.” Reyes let out a hum before moving to drag his own boots over. McCree ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it back into bunches before beginning to braid it. 

Reyes never noticed how long the outlaw’s hair was, and it was interesting to watch him expertly braid it nice and neat. When he was done he rolled a tie out from his wrist and tied up the end. McCree glanced over at the Commander, catching him staring with a smirk. Reyes quickly went back to tying his boot.

“Iffin ya want, you can come with, get some breakfast before ya leave.” He offered with a nod towards the canyon. Reyes contemplated it a moment.

“Sounds good.” He decided, smiling up McCree who leant him a hand to help him up. Now on their feet, McCree didn't bother letting go to lead him back down below.

The Panorama Dinner was so glaringly 50s it nearly made Reyes cringe as they walked up the steps and through the front doors. How a building from that era survived out here for so long while still only looking slightly dingy astounded him. The shitty vinyl seats still glittered, albeit a disgusting tomato red, and the silver retro lining was still shining. 

McCree lead Reyes to the bar and had him take a seat before disappearing through a door that lead to the back. The commander busied himself with reading all the bazillions of metal sheet prints that littered the walls, even chuckling to himself at a few of um. His eyes were drawn back to the counter when McCree and a taller woman can bustling through the kitchen. 

“It’s daylight savings boy! Yer here early not late, which might I say is a good change of pace.” She elbowed him lightly as she grabbed the pot of coffee to fill another customer’s cup with a nod. The outlaw giggled, ending with a rather adorable snort which led him to covering his face to hold in any more of those sounds before composing himself to talk to Reyes.

“And here I was thinking I was late. Bullshit.” He grinned, leaning his elbows on the counter in front of Reyes. “This is Jean, she runs the place. Much scarier boss than Matthew is in all honesty.” Jean scoffed behind him as she passed, giving him a look that read 'damn right'.

“She’s his momma.” He whispered with a snicker before leaning closer. “Also, I would greatly advise against drinking the coffee… I’m pretty sure it's just boiled dirt.” Reyes nodded sagely as if contemplating.

“Got any orange juice?” He asked, and McCree pushed himself away from the counter to run into the back, his smile never leaving his face. Jean came back in, giving him the stink eye.

“So what's the kid all lackadaisical ‘bout you fer? Better not have touched 'im up or so help me I’ll purge your sinful giblets with this pot o’ coffee.” She threatened starkly, taking Reyes aback. 

“No Ma’am. Just… friendly acquaintances is all.” he stumbled, she really was scarier than Deadlock’s leader had been. The other man sitting at the bar huffed a laugh, shaking his head. Jean just hummed 'yeah right’ before switching out with McCree again.

The kid set out a frosted plastic cup of bright orange something in front of Reyes, which he gladly took to sip at, thanking McCree. It tasted artificial, like cool-aid, but it was something.

“Alright, just you wait a bit and I’ll whip you up my special. Load o’ breakfast potatoes.” McCree chimed, moving behind the wall to the stove, setting to work. Jean called from the back that they were not, in fact, on the menu, and were not on the house. The gunslinger just grumbled about paying for it himself as he cracked some eggs.

“Didn't know you could cook. Didn't I luck out...” Reyes couldn't help but flirt a little to keep the comfort between the two of them, Jesse just beamed.

“One damn fine cook if I say so myself. I'm the reason we got more than just Bacon n’ Eggs on the menu. I actually love cookin’ to be honest.” He boasted, flipping the potatoes and eggs in his pan around. “I actually had this job before I joined Deadlock…” Reyes hummed in approval, the food smelled delicious. 

“You seem like a hot sauce kinda guy, or nah?” He asked, lifting up a bottle of Diablo while tilting his shoulders questionably. 

“Pfft, of course, qué me tomas, un gringo?” the boy’s smile in reply as he dumped the sauce into the pan struck Reyes somewhere deep in his heart. This kid… he couldn't help but decide that from now on, Jesse’s safety was his new top priority. 

+x+x+

Reaper’s thumb slid over a scar on his forearm, the deep cut of a revolver’s custom hilt that had dug into his flesh. It always burned there when he thought of Jesse. He couldn't help but let it lead him back through his mess of memories. While most of his life was in shambles, it was those thoughts of the younger outlaw that were most intact. The tiniest details so vivid and strong. 

He knew why. He was in love with him long ago. The only exception to his list… because he was on Reyes’ side. He was always on Reyes’ side…

He thought back to the sparking metal of Jesse’s leg. He hadn't kept his promise had he… to keep him safe.

He might have to do something about that.


	4. Black and White and Red all over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their trip to recruit Mei to the Meme Brigade end with Jesse being really really cool before getting his ass kicked. As usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. Oh my god depression had not been kind to me. I meant to have this out LAST month, but here it is almost two months late. I told y'all I'm horrible at this chapter business.
> 
> ENJOY
> 
> Fuk

McCree never did much like the snow. It reminded him of the winter holidays he would see his monster of a grandfather and his poor grandmother in North Dakota. The wind stung and his lungs felt frosted with every breath. Back then it was doubled by the anxiety and anger of his grandfather’s blatant racism towards himself and his ma… now it was the adrenalin and burn of the fight.

He, Zarya, Genji, Zenyatta and Bastion were currently in a firefight with damn good Talon agents in a small Antarctic storm. They had come here due to an Ex-Overwatch agent’s response to the signal Winston sent out. Mei-Ling Zhou had answered the call in distress, having only recently woken up from a cryogenic slumber to find her crew dead, Overwatch disbanded, and the world 10 years older. At the time, Talon was a second thought… it was a great thing they brought such heavy firepower, now if only they could use it.

“We would not be so encumbered if the Omnics didn't have to stop for repairs so often… why are we working with them again, Commander?” Zarya complained shortly. McCree forced down the bitter taste of the command title and rolled his eyes, shifting behind their cover.

“Because Lucio can't even DO snow, Lena’s having temporal issues, and Hana’s mech has zero insulation.” He repeated tersely for the 5th time. He had a strong distaste for racism against Omnics… or in general. Bastion and Zenyatta were fantastic beings, and didn't deserve the hatred Zarya tossed at them. She was getting better, but still the second things rolled south she blamed the bots. Her dislike towards Genji really got his britches in a twist… considering the fact that McCree was practically the same. At least the Shimada still had human blood and organs….

“There's an opening… but I doubt it will be safe.” The Russian switched the topic, pointing out a ladder on the west side of the complex, unguarded. “I can shield you long enough for you to get there… the Bastion unit can give you cover fire from it's position.” 

“That just might work. Once I’m up top I can knock out six of um. Y’all should be able to clear the rest.” He agreed before activating his com. “Alright, y’all best buckle up. I’m gonna need cover fire to the east as I make a run for the west. Line um up and I'll knock um down.” He ordered, before giving queue to Zarya to ready her shields.

Once her bubble shield enveloped him, he breathed a sigh in relief as it cut off the bite of the wind, and make a break for it. His layered cloaks billowed behind him as he ran, glad he wore the black one underneath the white instead of the yellow like Tracer insisted. He yelped, slipping once he got to the frozen ladder, the bubble shield disappearing. Just in time.

One he made the slippery climb up the ladder, he could see just about everything. Talon agents were hiding behind some old frozen vehicles, and Bastion provided cover as Zenyatta kept him in repair. With a deep breath he steadied himself and calculated the positions of the Talon agents, against the wind, and the temperature. His angle made things easier, the wind was in his favor, and his fingers were twitching...

“Ya’ll know what time it is.” He called before suddenly six of the Talon agents were dead in the snow, three left scrambling away. Unfortunately Bastion and Zarya made quick work of them. 

“Hey fellas, what’s black and white and red all over?” the cowpolk joked into his mic, earning a scoff from Zarya and a small chuckle from Zenyatta, who was a sucker for shitty jokes.

“You…” growled a voice from behind him. McCree spun around, startled and let loose a flash grenade. It did it's job, in stunning Reaper into dropping his guns and crumpling slightly, but backfired and affected McCree as well. In his blindness he nearly backed off the edge onto the icy pavement below. However, metal claws dug into his sides, pulling him back up. 

Jesse howled in pain, falling to his knees, clutching his sides when Reaper let go, his claws covered in blood mixed with a bluish fluid. The ghost had fallen hard on his ass, and remained sitting there staring at the odd mixture on his hands.

“Or… not.” He mumbled to himself, voice filled with confusion. Jesse looked up at him through furrowed brows, and a difference befuddlement.

“We gotta stop meetin’ like this…” he croaked, wincing as he made an attempt to stand. He cursed under his breath and shivered. His heating system was busted, and some fluid tubes were torn, making breathing a bit difficult. Reaper seemed to notice the weakness and immediately stood.

When his shotguns disappeared he thought he was gone for good… that even after saving him a second time, Reaper still had his head in his sights. Instead of the shocking fire of shrapnel, McCree felt warm smoke, thick and dusty against his cold skin. The next thing he knew, he was down below, in front of an opening door, a small woman of Asian descent gasping in front of him and pulling him in.

+×+×+

When Jesse came to, he felt dizzy, but warm. Warm was a good sign, dizzy-

“Are you awake Jesse?” The calming voice of Zenyatta flitted through the air. The gunslinger let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Yeah… yeah I’m fine.” He rasped. The monk hummed next to him, and Jesse noticed they were meditating, their orbs encircling them both.

“You had extensive damage… Bastion was able to repair the larger injuries, I am currently in the process of repairing the rest.” The Omnic informed, placing a warm metal hand on McCree’s head. It was a gentle almost petting gesture, and he appreciated it, closing his eyes with a relaxed sigh.

“He… saved me again.”

“By hurting you…”

“I don't think I would have survived that fall.”

“You nearly didn't survive this… but if you still believe-”

“He didn't finish me off… he brought me inside. Of course I believe. Sure as shit.” Zenyatta chuckled, their voice sparkling.

“Well then he needs to trim his talons.” Jesse let out a snort before wincing in pain, followed by a more restrained giggle from the Omnic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IAMALSOSORRYITSSHORT


	5. Knuckle Sandwiches aren't a healthy snack.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree refuses to talk about his feelings. No he prefers to scream them at people while beating them up and sobbing violently. Same tho tbh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm horrible at updating thank you for your kind comments and for keeping on reading! Like dang y'all. You keep me going.

Having Mei along with the team was a great help, her abilities were the exact kind of defense they needed. Small, but deadly. Bastion was great, but slow and bulky. Not to mention Zarya’s problems with working with him… slowly she and their Omnic companions were getting along, but slow wasn't good enough progress for team perfection. On the other hand, Mei and Zarya were hitting it off a little too well. Both Hana and Tracer were a little heart broken… 

 

Meanwhile, Winston beckoned them to come back to Gibraltar to pick up new equipment, and get reacquainted with Mercy and Tobjorn, who had arrived together after receiving the recall.

 

McCree was excited to see Mercy again, who was practically his sister back in Overwatch. While they got along, they quickly found they both were interested in very different things when it came to relationships. They decided, like McCree and Tracer, to just be very gay, very best friends. Torb on the other hand, was a little daunting. He helped a ton in forging what 80% of what McCree was made of, and he almost felt guilty for how bad a shape he was about to present himself in.

 

One side of him was relieved he would be forced into a tune up, the other was terrified of the dual forces of familial anger at their toy getting busted. This life was sure never uneventful…

 

Unfortunately, or… maybe fortunately, both Lucio and Zenyatta picked up on his trepidation. The two pulled him into a jam session while the rest of the team shipped out, opting to stay behind and help McCree with securing their beach house for their return. Their jam session ended up turning into a cuddle pile, watching movies together and devouring what was left of the perishables in the kitchen. McCree has zero complaints about that.

 

“So now we got your mind off it… what's got you all riled up Jess?” Lucio asks, from his spot, curled up on top of the gunslinger. Jesse sighs, he knew this was inevitable.

 

“Just been hell lately… not looking forward to my checkup.” He heard Zenyatta hum beneath him, their arms squeezing his chest lightly in comfort. Luckily McCree was also a good deal of metal, so cuddling with the Omnic monk wasn't unpleasant in the least. 

 

“What? You ain't afraid of no doctor’s appointment…” Lucio chuckled, slapping Jesse’s chest. Jesse groaned and burrowed further into Zenyatta. 

 

“I don't wanna talk about it. Yet. Ok?” He felt his chest tighten, breathing became harder. He gestured for Lucio to get off, needing space. The musician pulled away without batting an eye, his playful attitude sobering. 

 

McCree wouldn't admit it, but there was still a lot he resented about Overwatch, about seeing the woman who literally raised him from the dead, about who he was now. What he was. He knew he should just talk about it, just let his friends help, but the problem didn't truely lie in his new body. He couldn’t care less about the new limbs and organs, about no longer having a human heart or real blood in his veins… it was the situation surrounding it.

 

It was the explosion… the losses he faced on that day. The people he couldn't save. The eyes he stared into as flames engulfed them both. The pain of waking up in the dark dusty rubble, screaming in agony. He couldn't move on from that moment, couldn't bear to talk about it without falling apart. His team needed him out together, so that’s how he would play it, just like he always has.

 

“Alright. If you're sure about that… just know I’m always here to talk to, and so is Zen!” Jesse smiled, sitting up and leaning his elbows on his knees. 

 

“I know. Y’all always got my back. I appreciate it.” He opened his mouth to say more when his arm’s com began to beep. He held up his hand fingers spread, which brought up a cyan screen with multiple options. He swiped his pointer and middle fingers downward, bringing up a message.

 

“Looks like our ride’ll be here 'n an hour… let's toss this garbage out and lock up.” He informed the two. Immediately Zenyatta pressed his head to Jesse’s with a small zap before leaving with an armful of trash and dishes to clean and toss what Lucio and McCree never got to eating.

 

Lucio got up, also kissing Jesse on the cheek before skating off to activate their security system, and ensure all the bugs and cameras were online and functioning one last time.

 

Jesse smiled as he watched the two go, feeling all the loved they wanted him to feel, before pulling on his boots and getting ready himself.

 

x+x+x

 

The plane ride to Gibraltar from California should have been much longer, if they didn't have one of the world's fastest carrier jets in their possession. Tracer’s jet was one of the most comfortable and quick rides to any location, and Jesse was grateful that in only 8 hours the trio had touched down, with Winston there to greet them.

 

“Well howdy big guy! Been a while!” McCree beamed as he embraced the gorilla in a hug. 

 

“I guess it has.” Winston huffed happily. He shifted on his knuckles, motioning for McCree to follow him. Just then, Lucio and Zenyatta flitted out.

 

“Hey Winston! How's it hangin’ buddy?” The skater cheered, lightly punching the gorilla’s shoulder. 

 

“I’ve been “hangin” just fine. It’s nice to see you two as well… why don't you go ahead, I have some things to discuss with your commander.” McCree visibly flinched at the title, uncomfortable with it…

 

“Very well, goodbye McCree.” Zenyatta nodded graciously before turning to float away. Lucio gave a mock salute before giving him a flirtatious grin.

 

“Yeah, byyyyye Jesse~” the cowboy couldn't help but snort, feeling a little better. Winston simply shrugged before carrying on, the cowboy in tow.

 

“So what’s goin’ on? I know we got checkups, and some resupply… but sounds like there's somethin’ else buzzin yer brain.” The scientist nodded, frowning as much as a primate could frown.

 

“Well there's been some complications in the new tech you wanted… The nanites I’ve been working on with Doctor Zeigler just aren't functioning the way we want them to.” He grumbled, sounding all the exhausted scientist he was.

 

“So you haven't found a fix for the biological thing yet I take it?” 

 

“No… unfortunately. The biomechanical is working quite well, so we could equip both you and Genji, along with the Bastion unit and Zenyatta… but everyone else…” McCree hummed, fiddling with the hem of his serape.

 

“Well it would make for a good test run, to go ahead and stock us up with it. This way I could put at least one member with the biometric nanites with one without um.” Jesse shrugged as he opened one of the doors into the base, pressing his palm to a print scanner. Winston thanked him as he strolled inside.

 

“That's… a good idea actually. I’ll inform the doctor about it later, though right now I have another topic to discuss.” The gorilla stopped in front of a room, suggesting this is where he wanted to take Jesse. 

 

“There's… someone who'd like to join our team.” Winston sounded nervous, but low key excited, and that made Jesse suspicious.

 

“And who would that be?” He asked just as the door slid open with a resounding hiss.

 

“Why don't you see for yourself…” came a voice from inside. McCree turned to look, only for his curious expression to turn sour in an instant.

 

“Morrison.”

 

In the blink of an eye Jack was on the ground, caught by Jesse’s left fist sent straight to his jaw. Winston made to hold McCree back, mumbling in alarm, but the gunslinger shook free.

 

“You’re leavin’... N’less you want another one of those you sonovabitch.” He growled, ready to tussle. The old soldier stood up, clutching his jaw, glaring at the cowboy.

 

“Like hell I’m gonna let gang trash like you command my soldiers.” He spat back, shoulders hunched and ready to barrel at McCree if he so much as flinched.

 

“Dead men like you don't get to tell me what to do, why don't you git back to that damn grave they dug ya and stay there.” Jesse was livid, out of all of the dead to come back, it had to be fucking Morrison. The one man who Jesse hated with every grain of sand in every desert in the world, and the feeling was mutual.

 

“You betrayed us, Jesse. I always knew you would too. I tried to tell them. You sold us out like your own damn gang.” the cowboy felt his chest tighten, his throat ache. His mind was racing as he clenched his jaw at the fall the equally pent up man in front of him had.

 

“I sold my gang out because I was forced to! I never betrayed Blackwatch. I would never, never betray Gabe.” The soldier’s expression grew hot, baring his teeth in a grimace.

 

“You don't get to say his name.” he threatened, causing Winston to shuffle away with an uncertain grumble.

 

“Hee-haw-larious comin’ from the pile ‘o horse shit who killed him.” the atmosphere was tense, Jesse felt coiled up like a squished spring and was ready to unleash hell upon the man who was a blight in the good life he was blessed with in Blackwatch. The silence was too much.

 

“That's right, you killed him. You did. And I know you know I was right there, I watched you do it.” His voice wavered as he held his clutched metal fist up. 

 

“I lost so much because of you… because you wouldn't fucking listen to him. Because you thought the UN was right, that you were right.”

 

“You think you were the only one who lost everything punk? Why the hell should I feel sorry for you.” Jack’s fists were balled so tight the leather of his gloved squeaked. It only irritated Jesse further.

 

“You know, it's a shame I didn' take Reyes offer to kill ya when I had the chance. Might as well make 'im proud by finishing the job.” With that the cowboy leapt at Morrison, going for a left hook again. Unfortunately the solder caught his arm and directed it away, causing McCree to twist uncomfortably and fall into a choke hold. 

 

McCree barely struggled, instead giving a swift kick up, jabbing the spur of his boot right into Jack’s crotch. The SEP solder cried out in pain and let Jesse loose, allowing him to spin and land a knee right to Jack’s nose before Winston’s huge hands restrained him, pulling him away. Zarya had also made it across the room to restrain a huffing Jack, snapping Jesse out of his red fury and back to the world, where he immediately zoned in on the concerned voices of the others chatting about in the doorway.

 

“Enough! You two need to cool down… perhaps you meeting like this was a bad idea on my part… but did you really have to try and kill each other?” The scientist growled, sounding all the big scary intelligent ape that he was. Jesse felt like a child being scolded, slumping ridiculed into the furry beast.

 

Still his chest was tight, and he soon realized that his eyes were blurry not from anger, but from how heavily he was crying. He glanced at the other faces around him as Winston shuffled him out and away from the rec room in silence.

 

They didn't deserve to see that… to see all that pent up sorrow and anger Jesse had locked away behind his charming demeanor. Zenyatta and Lucio were one thing, they were guidance, they were close to him. They were his confidants… but the others to see their leader like this? Reyes would be rolling in his grave.

 

He didn't notice until Winston had turned him around to hold him that they had stopped, somewhere quiet and secluded so Jesse could calm down. The cowpoke curled up on himself, openly sobbing now into Winston’s shoulder.

 

“I’m… I’m so sorry Jesse. If I knew it would go this bad I wouldn't have kept it a secret.” The gorilla rubbed circles with his knuckles into Jesse’s back, trying to sooth him. McCree pulled away, shaking his head.

 

“I shouldn't have let 'im goad me like that I-” he wiped his eyes sniffling. “I fucked that up real good. I was never good at bein’ the better person and he fuckin’ knew it.” 

 

“I didn't know you were there either, in the explosion… that explains the… cyborg thing.” they way he said 'cyborg thing made Jesse snort, for a scientist he was terrible with words. Jesse took a deep breath before nodding, trying to steady his heart.

 

“I was trying to pull him away… I almost did too.” He passed his thumb over the tips of his fingers the metal scraping slightly. The phantom sensation of Reyes’ fingers brushing his were strangely grounding, calming him.

 

“I still shouldn't have- well no, he deserved that kick in the nuts- but I shoulda tried not to stars a damn fight. Sorry for… all that.” Winston huffed, placing a hand on Jesse’s shoulder.

 

“I know how it is… of all the people here I know how easy it is to succumb to a fit of rage. You're not one to easily do so either, it was a bit shocking to tell the truth.” Jesse nodded before narrowing his eyes at the ape.

 

“Was that a pun?” Winston’s face immediately fell as he bumbled backwards and down the hall.

 

“No, absolutely not. It was not a pun.” Jesse grinned, wiping his eyes dry with the soft cloth of his serape.

 

“Oh yes it was. Boy you sure delivered that in a flash.” He could hear the gorilla’s groan echo down the hallway, making him chuckle a bit. He was probably off to deal with the other half of the mess… or third, seeing as the rest of the agents would have questions. Jesse heaved a heavy sigh before glancing around him, finding the directional sign to the medical ward.

 

“Might as well get that over with then…”


	6. Scrap Dump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks I don't think I'll be continuing this. It's gone off track of what I originally wanted and??? I... Can't remember what I originally wanted it's just all jumbled. SO! Here's everything I've written for future chapters, and scrapped chapters!
> 
> Part 1: Continuation of story.  
> Part 2: Scrapped flashback.  
> Part 3: Scrapped mission idea  
> Part 4: MCREYES DO SUM FUK
> 
> Enjoy! And thank you for reading this shit show!

“Jesse!” Angela chimed as McCree walked through the doors to the medical ward. She bounded over and embraced him in a hug.

“Howdy Doc, been a bit hasn't it.” Jesse greeted, hugging her back.

“It’s good to see you again! How have you been?” She pulled back beaming, until she noticed the bruising and split lip the cowboy sported, her smile immediately dropped.

“Oh dear, what happened to you?” She asked, concerned as she pulled Jesse over to treat his cuts and eventually start his physical.

“Morrison.” He bit, looking away. Doctor Zeigler simply sighed knowingly, lifting his head to dab a cotton ball with disinfectant at his swollen lip. Jesse winced slightly, shifting as he dealt with the sting.

“I’m sorry you had to see him first thing… perhaps Winston’s plan was not the best.” She moved away to toss the cotton ball and grab her equipment. 

“You’ll probably be seein’ him after I’m done. Did a number to his pretty face too.” Angela clicked her tongue, shaking her head in disapproval. 

“Did you start it?” Before Jesse could reply, the door hissed open and the warble of a hover-tool cart filled the room.

“Did who start what now? We talkin’ the brawl with the pretty boy and cowpoke? Because my money’s on- oh! McCree! Man of the hour ain’cha?” Torbjorn nodded at McCree before digging around his tools.

“Unkel, I told you to wait until I’m finished with him.” Mercy chastised, opening a smooth band and placing it around McCree’s bicep before touching a few buttons upon it’s surface to allow it to begin counting his heart rate. It hissed as the rubber inside was inflated by air to cut the blood flow in his arm, making it easier to get a reading. It felt uncomfortably tight as usual.

“Yes, yes... I know. But maybe I wanted to have a little social before I get to taking the poor sap apart.” He huffed, crossing his short arms. His metal fingers drummed impatiently before he brought up a stool to plop down on.

“Nice of you ta check up on me Torb. Now what was that about earlier, who you got you're money on, me or boyscout?” Jesse smirked. Torbjorn laughed, slapping his hands on his knees.

“Sorry but I’ve got money on Jack. He’s still a super soldier, he’d wipe the floor with ya.” Jesse pouted, and Angela removed the device from his arm, humming at the rate.

“I was trained by a super soldier too ya know. I took…” he paused momentarily before deciding not to continue. Both Doctor Zeigler and Torbjorn glanced at each other, thinking it best to move the conversation on.

“Alright Jess, if you could just come over here to I can weigh you.” McCree nodded and slid off the patient table, walking over to the scale.

“I’ve probably put on some weight, I dunno.” He mentioned idly, watching the numbers on the scale balance themselves out. Three hundred fifty eight.

“Oh, that's a bit above what you were before, it's good you're finally putting on weight again.” Angela tapped her tablet, inputting the data as McCree stepped off the scale.

“Alright, back on the table, I need to draw some blood.” Jesse did as he was told

\-----

The truck his squadron was in rattled uncomfortably, but Jesse was used to it by now. Once the post-battle adrenalin wore off the constant jittering was like a lullaby, helping him to nod off. As his eyes fluttered closes for the umpteenth time, his superior let out a grunt of a sigh next to him. He glanced over to the bigger man. Who lay back against the wall of the truck, letting it rock him, his hands tucked safely between his large thighs.

Jesse couldn't help but envy, his outstanding crush on Reyes thrived on fantasies of those thighs. This isn't the first time he curses himself for not taking his chance when he was younger. Not the first time he praises himself for the same thing. He had only just turned 17 then… he would have regretted it. 

Now though… now he was 21. Old enough to drink (though he did very little) and old enough to pursue an older lover if he damn well felt like it, and boy howdy did he. He let himself fall onto Reyes’ shoulder, ignoring the metal bite of their standard issue armor. He wouldn't get chastised, or pushed off. He finally let himself drift to sleep, so did Reyes.

+x+x+

When Jesse came to, they had already been extracted and just touched down in Gibraltan soil. He must have really needed the nap to have slept through the transfer onto the carrier. He followed his commander off, to their shared quarters… only shared because Jesse was afraid to sleep alone the first year and Reyes had the kindness to comfort him, they never stopped. 

They both stripped of their armor, returning their weapons to their lockers, and taking turns in the shower. Reyes went first as usual, ridding himself of the grime that battle left so he could concentrate on the paperwork that came after. By the time Jesse was out, Reyes had finished and was climbing into bed. 

“Hey, Commander?” Jesse asked after downing a glass of water. Reyes grunted in response from under the covers. Jesse crept closer, on Reyes’ side of the bed, twisting his hands as his heart leapt in his throat.

“Do you… I…” he stumbled, nervous and unsure what to say, his body thrumming in excitement made it hard to focus. 

“Spit it out McCree.” Reyes sighed heavily, visibly tensing. Jesse swallowed hard, biting his lip.

“Will you have sex with me?” He finally squeaked out, his eyes screwed shut, his heart thumping, his shoulders drawn in preparation for the worst. The world seemed to stand still as the covers shifted softly while Reyes sat up to look at Jesse, a brow raised and his eyes focused.

“I know asking for clarification is just going to end up in you bumbling, but where the hell is this coming from kid?” His gaze made Jesse shake anyways. He was scant but in fresh boxers, feeling all the frail his scrawny body looked. 

“I just- I've liked you, for a really long time. I know the first year I cursed your soul and wished you would die but…” the look on Reyes face was telling him to move on. “But. But you remember the whole… date we had back when we first met. All that was real, genuine interest in ya… and after all this time I still got them feelin's.” He clamped his hands together again, beet red to his ears.

Reyes was quiet, for a good while. When Jesse looked back his attention was on his hands gipping the blanket, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips. 

“We can't. I’ll hurt you.” He finally said, quietly, as if he didn't want to.

“What do you mean? If you're into that kinda stuff I wouldn't mind try-”

“NO. Well… not exactly- uhg. No, not like that. Jesse I’m a super soldier. I’m bigger, stronger, far more durable. I will literally destroy your virgin... everything.” He motioned to Jesse, who's face curled in offense.

“Darlin’ iffin you think I’m a virgin you're wrong as all hell.” He figured Reyes had read the information he had to tell his doctors about his life in Deadlock… part of him was touched that he respected his privacy like that.

“I highly doubt-”

“Nuh-uh. I'm not accepting that as an answer because I’ve seen you commander, and you may be hung but I've taken two at a time without breaking a sweat.” He crossed his arms proudly, admiring the wide-eyes look Reyes gave him. “But if there's another reason…”

“I’m your superior.”

“We share a bed still anyways.”

“I’ll be playing favorites.”

“You n’ I both know Young is your favorite.”

“You're too youn-”

“But is that a personal problem for you, or a social problem for you.” Reyes sighed, running a hand over his face, Jesse was ruining him.

“Are you absolutely sure, that you want to change is like this.”

“Gabriel, I'm absolutely fuckin’ sure I wanna hop up on that dick.” Reyes snorted, shaking his head as he reached out and held Jesse's wrist, pulling him closer. Jesse happily lulled back the sheets and straddled the Latino. 

It was a blissful feeling to have his large calloused hands on Jesse’s hips, squeezing gently, thumbs rubbing circles into his bikini line. He rocked slowly, letting his head tip back in a sigh before Reyes pulled him down to kiss him. It had been so long since that first kiss, and his superior tasted different this time. Like cigars and tobasco, a hint of blood from his split lip. 

Jesse let Reyes take control, hands roaming, tongue sneaking past his lips, exploring. His tension and fear from earlier melted away at Reyes’ fingers massaging his back. He bucked forwards, his rising erection rubbing against Reyes’ own in delicious friction.

The Commander was being gentle, and Jesse knew it. A part of him liked it, another wanted to move the fuck on. He pulled away to strip himself of his boxers, eyeing Reyes to do the same. The older seemed to pout, before moving to do the same. 

Jesse licked his lips once Reyes’ erection was free, hardly full mast, but still thick and uncut. Gabriel’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Are you going to stare or are you going to do something…” he growled, unimpressed. The punk rolled his eyes, crawling forward and wrapping a hand around the base of Reyes’ cock before giving it a good lick. The older inhaled, fingers burying themselves in McCree’s hair.

\-----

“Woah, woah woah woah, McCree slow down! What are you going on about, love?” Tracer wrapped her arms around one of his and held him in place. The rest of the crew looked at him in confusion. It wasn't like McCree to have an outburst at all, but here he was, a vein looking like it would burst on his forehead and being none the articulate. 

“We need to go now. There's an emergency, were going to Deadlock gorge.” The vaquero tried to sound firm, but his voice cracked slightly towards the end. Tracer gasped and he realized he had started up the waterworks. He smeared the tears away with his glove and went slack.

“Look, I ain't too keen on returning to my old stompin’ grounds, but we gotta head over there quick as the wind. The Deadlock gang is bein’ targeted by some shady individuals who wanna clean out the Omnic population and some other shadier individuals who’ve got their eyes on the weapons Deadlock’s gonna score.” Tracer let go of his arm and took a step back in shock.

“You mean for us to side with criminals to save bots?” Zarya accused, crossing her arms and looking even more terrifying and beautiful. McCree deflated further under her scrutiny.

“Why would you want us to give aid to weapons smugglers? Gangs like that should be brought to justice.” Genji cut in. “We should help the Omnics, not them.” McCree sighed and slumped into a chair. He ran a hand through his hair and let out another shakier sigh. The kids whispered amongst themselves, he could feel the doubtful eyes boring into him.

“The Deadlock gang is awful. Horrible. They're terrible people who kill and steal and you don't wanna know what else. And I used to be a proud member of um.” He admitted, guilt stewing inside him. “But… They protect the Omnic population in their territory, and the humans too, of course.”

“Just 'cuz they’re not Omniphobic doesn't mean they’re dismissed from being dirty.” Hana cut in, looking up from her phone briefly.Jesse nodded in agreement before continuing his explanation.

“I don't dismiss um from what they’ve done. I ain't tryin’ to make ya like um, but I am keen on helpin’ them protect their people. Deadlock’s my home… and we owe it to those Omnics for pickin’ us back up after the Omnium left us in shambles.” 

“You have family there, don't you?” Lucio asked, brows furrowed in worry, but eyes understanding.

“My Ma… she lives with a couple Omnics that help her round with errands and the like. She gives um a home, and she’ll end up bein’ targeted.” He choked on the lump in his throat, not bothering to hold back tears. Lucio zipped forward to hug him and McCree gladly wrapped his arms around the DJ.

“She’s the only family I got left, I just wanna make sure she stays safe. I know it's askin’ a lot from y’all but I need to do this.” Everyone was quiet for a moment, contemplating.

“I, for one, would love to help my brothers and sisters. I will gladly assist you.” Zenyatta hummed, ever gracefully floating beside Genji. The cyborg looked to his master and glanced back at McCree before nodding.

“If sensei is accompanying you, then so shall I.” He was followed up by Bastion whirring from behind everyone in a cheerful manner. Zenyatta chuckled, prompting an eyebrow from McCree.

“He wishes to aid us in this mission.” the monk explained and Jesse smiled softly.

“Much obliged.” the gunslinger tipped his hat towards the larger Omnic. Zarya however huffed, unsatisfied.

“I will not be going with you.” She stated firmly before turning to leave. It made McCree’s stomach roll but bid her a good night as she left the room. Tracer and Lucio however, were more than happy to accompany him. D. Va, declined with a shrug.

“It probably wouldn't be cool if I went with you. I’m sure streaming us fighting alongside this gang wouldn't be good for my rep. Or yours.” She had a good point, he had to admit. Even without her and Zarya, he had a good team to back him up.

“Ya’ll sure about comin’ with me? Could get dicey, what with Deadlock’s distaste of me n’ all.” The kids nodded excitedly.

“Of course we would be happy to back you up! Besides, I’m looking forward to meeting your mom, who knows how many embarrassing photos she has of baby McCree to show us!” Lucio rubbed his hands together with a devilish grin. McCree couldn't help but let out a laugh, his anxiety lifting.

“So, cowpoke, let's get a move on then, yeah?” Lena teased with a huge grin.

+x+x+

The gang wasn't pleased their boy was back in town, and they made that known all too well. The split lip and bruises forming around McCree’s eye sure sent that message home. But, grudges aside, they trusted McCree's intel, and would allow him and his team to lend a hand in protecting their town. 

The gang set them up in an old mine shaft they used as a gift shop for some movie about aliens, which lead to the exciting discovery of McCree’s very own blacklight tattoos. So while Lucio was patching their leader up, he was also admiring the pale, robins egg blue glow of the skull tattooed on McCree’s face. His old boss chuckled in the corner, his own reddish tattoos glowing under the lights.

“These kids sure do think yer the shit, ain't they?” He jabbed, his voice gravelly from age. He was a tall, leather clad man, with silvering hair cut messy and short. His skin darkened by the sun and drooping with wrinkles. Jesse looked over at him with disdain.

“Ain't like I wanted to be in charge of um, just everybody else who coulda done the job is dead or missin’.” He retorted. The kids were fond of him, and did look up to him, and he greatly appreciated it, but Matthew wasn't complimenting him… 

“Shame, woulda done a better job than you.”

“Least we agree on somethin’ other than Omnics.” The cowboy grumbled.

“So wait, you were a biker?” Lucio asked, hoping to distract from the tension McCree and Matthew were building. Jesse nodded, sitting back and peering out one of the cave’s entrances down at the Diner. 

“Yep. Still got my hover-cycle stashed away somewhere. Most beautiful thing you'd ever see.” Matt laughed sharply, drawing the team’s attention.

“You still have that beauty? Fuckin' A, are you sentimental. Never shoulda gave it to ya if I had known you were gonna betray us like that.” He spat, literally, making Tracer recoil and inch closer to Genji on the wall they were leaning against. McCree rose, fists balled.

“I didn’t betray you, my hand was forced.”

“Forced? You were gone like the wind boy! Disappeared just like that.” The biker growled, standing menacingly tall and square.

“They crashed my trade and killed half my men. Then they took me an tortured me for more information. I never sang a word neither, jackass.” His outburst startled everyone. While McCree was hardly soft spoken, he never let so much venom drip from his words. Matthew, on the other hand, was livid.

“You little shit, you joined the god damn enemy, next time I saw, you were shootin’ yet own blood!”

“I didn't have a choice Matt! It was either join Blackwatch, or die in some damn cell. I was fucking 15! I was scared, I- I did what I had to. What I was told to.” McCree could feel Lucio beside him, trying to silently support him without intruding, and the cowboy was eternally grateful, pressing the back of his metal hand to the kid’s arm in acknowledgement. Matthew scoffed and moved toward the entrance with a huff. 

“Trains comin’ by in an hour. We’ll give you the signal once the cargo's secure.” He turned back, eyes daggers towards McCree. “Better not let me down again boy.”

+x+x+

Genji growled in frustration at the surrounding gunfire that was pinning him in an old propane shop. Propane. Of all places. It had to be something explosive.

Zenyatta let out a whir of concern, preparing for unleashing the power of the Iris to get the two of them out of this pickle.

“Ya’ll hang tight, don't move just yet, I’ve got Bastion setting up with Deadlock’s sniper and Tracer’s with Luce, ready to zoom in to get you out second Talon’s distracted.” McCree ordered over the coms. 

“That is a grand idea. Then perhaps we can continue moving the payload.” Zenyatta replied, Genji snickered at the obvious sarcasm in his mentor’s voice. Suddenly a barrage of gunfire further off stopped the commotion outside their doors, shortly after, the sound of pop music flooded the room as Lucio and Traced zipped on in.

“Let's get this thing moving, shall we!” The Brit teased, running back out the other door in the blink of an eye. The three of them followed out into the hot sun of the canyon. They surrounded the payload and got it up and running again, driving it along to the enormous blast doors that opened to the Deadlock Gang’s warehouse. 

It looked like Bastion had cleared away the Talon agents for there was a surprising lack of strays… or anyone for that matter. It was quiet, and unsettling.

“Yo, McCree, where you at?” Lucio asked over the coms. He was met with silence. “Jesse, my dude, pick up.” 

“This is concerning.” Genji agreed before trying himself. “Jesse, are you alright? Do you require our assistance?” they waited with bated breath as the blast doors opened. There was Bastion and a couple Deadlock members waiting for them on the other side, but McCree couldn't be seen among the crowd.

“Perhaps some of us should split up and search for him. Genji and I can ask Bastion if they saw him last.” The Omnic monk suggested. Tracer nodded furiously before flicking her guns out.

“Lucio and I can search the road and these buildings then. We can cover that ground faster.” The DJ agreed, prompting them to set off back down the road. Genji and his master left the payload in Deadlock’s hands and approached their Omnic friend.

“You saw McCree last, yes?” Zenyatta asked the larger bot, who chirped an excited 'Yes!’ “Do you know where he disappeared to? He isn't answering any attempts to communicate.”  
Bastion whirred in thought, before pointing out into the gorge and furiously beeping. 

“He left” Genji asked, Zenyatta nodding. 

“Yes, it seems he had run out to track down any strays that Bastion missed.”

“That does not explain why he has not contacted us, but it could mean he is in danger.” The Shimada crossed his arms, and activated his com link. “Have you had any luck?”

“We found… we found him. But, that guy from earlier, Matt is with him. He’s got him handcuffed and he’s handing him off to Reaper.” Lucio replied frantically. 

“We could use some backup on this one.” Tracer whispered over the link, there were voices in the background, placing her closer to where McCree was.

“We're on our way.”

+x+x+

 

\-----

It was a small dark room, and the heat radiating from their bodies made it feel deliciously smaller. Reaper had Jesse pinned on a table, thrusting into him with abandon as the younger man huffed and moaned. His claws dug into the man’s sandy hips, ripping a lengthy groan from the gunslinger. Reaper chuckled darkly, bending closer to his fling's face and bucking sharper into his ass. 

“Now hush puta…” he purred- “Wouldn't want anyone to see you like this…” it made Jesse swallow hard, whimpering and worrying his plump reddened lips with his teeth. Reaper groaned in intrigue. “Oh no, that wouldn't bother you at all would it? For them to see you taken like this… owned.” He raked his clawed fingers down the cowboy’s sides, the metal of his bio-mechanical parts making an obscene screech that seemed to make McCree squirm.

“Hmn- oh darlin’ don't…” 

“Don't what? Talk dirty? I think you and I can agree I absolutely should not stop.” Jesse only whimpered in response, moving his metal arm over his face. He was splayed out so prettily, the table slick with his sweat and his legs spread as wide as they could go. Reaper had already left dark bruising bites along the man’s neck and thighs, little gifts to make up for the fact he still wore his mask. As deeply as the two were in their… relationship… Reaper feared reviewing himself would just complicate things. It helped that Jesse respected it, never pried or plead for him to remove it. Even after expressing how anxious it made him feel due to the symbology in it’s shape. 

Jesse interrupted his thoughts by letting out a needing groan, his legs squeezing around Reaper’s hips and pulling him closer. In response the mercinary snapped his hips harder against McCree, the sound of their flesh slapping together even louder. The gunslinger’s moans even more so. 

“Close your eyes.” Reaper demanded, and Jesse followed suit in an instant, his jaw going slack as he awaited his ghostly lover’s lips. With his mask lifted slightly he smothered the younger man, kissing him deep and full. The taste of tobacco and sarsaparilla could never be so delicious but on McCree’s lips. He was so sickeningly bitter and sweet and Reaper never wanted to stop. The mewls his lover made were trapped in their kiss and the merc knew they were dancing in the edge. It took one last thrust before Jesse had to break their kiss as he orgasmed. His human-cybernetic body shook as he gasped for air, head tipped back in utter bliss.

With that, Reaper was spent, spilling over into McCree’s ass with a shutter. He felt himself falling apart, his form unstable from so much emotion and energy spent. His claws curled into fists as he wavered, parts of himself swirling away into smoke. His fling seemed to take notice, and he found Jesse’s hands in either side of his masked face, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks as he pulled Reaper closer. 

“You doin’ alright ghost?” He hummed, his voice hoarse and deep and comforting. Reaper simply nodded, letting his head fall onto McCree’s flesh shoulder. He closed his eyes with a sigh, curling his arms around the man underneath him as metal and flash fingers combed through his hair. He had always loved Jesse… he was his rock, his future… it hurt so much to cut him out of his life and break his promise to come find him. He wanted so bad to reveal himself, bit they had tumbled so far into this strange relationship with each other he was sure it would cause everything to come crashing down around them. He couldn't loose this new love with his old flame, not again… never again.

A buzz in his ear immediately soured his mood. With a sigh he pulled himself away from the warm and soft embrace of his lover and answered his com.

“What is it?” He growled out, hoping that these idiots could have at least down their job for once… while secretly hoping they failed horribly.

“There you are mate! Been tryin’ ta get a hold of ya for ages! Roadie and I skipped the fuck out soon as we could, those kids fuckin decimated these cunts we were workin’ with! We didn't stand a chance!” Reaper simply rolled his eyes, giving a flat look down at McCree’s confused face before remembering he was wearing a mask.

“Whatever… just get to the damn safehouse and wait for me there. I’m… preoccupied.” The ghost grumbled. The Australians weren't awful teammates, but right now Junkrat’s shrill voice was not what he wanted to hear.

“Preoccupied with what mate? You were fuck all to be seen the whole time!” The blonde shouted, irritation seeping from his words.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I'm sure beating information from their leader is just sad compared to running tail tucked from a bunch of teenagers.” He laced his words with enough sarcasm to make McCree snort. He glanced up at the man who had put on his button up and was currently zipping into the leather corset that protected his midriff. “Learn your place, Rat. I’ll be there later.” With that he turned off his comms, uncaring of whatever retort the junker had for him. Instead he helped McCree clean themselves up. 

It was when they were fully clothed and feeling the exhaustion hit that McCree hugged him, burying his face in Reaper’s neck with a dreamy sigh. It made his undead heart flutter with warmth and happiness to just hold Jesse like this. Eventually they had to pull apart, the cowboy kissing the beak of Reaper’s mask with a tired chuckle. 

“You outta get goin’ now. My crew’s gonna be lookin’ for me.” Jesse sighed again, his fingers having slid down to trace Reaper’s belts. The hooded man nodded, his claws releasing McCree’s hips and stepping back.

“I’ll be seeing you, partner.” McCree chuckled and pushed Reaper playfully, the ghost joining in with his own raspy laughter. Eventually Reaper turned for the door, sliding it open and waving back before dissipating into a cloud of smoke and hurtling away.

Jesse let out another sigh, a soft smile played on his lips before leaving the room himself to locate his crew.

\------


End file.
